Oct 09 , 2025
The ground was slick with mud and blood. Bullets cut the smoky air like razors. Somewhere close, a comrade cried out. Samuel Woodfill wasn’t about to let him die alone—not on this hellscape. No man...
(0) Comments
Oct 09 , 2025
Blood-soaked mud clings to boots. The air tastes of gunpowder and death. Samuel Woodfill stands alone, sweat stinging his eyes, rifle ready. Shells demolish the earth around him, but he presses for...
(0) Comments
Oct 09 , 2025
Samuel Woodfill stood alone amid the razed fields of Fismes, France. Mud clung to his boots, sweat and blood smeared across his face. Shells fell like death itself was raining down. Around him, men...
(0) Comments
Oct 09 , 2025
Bullets whipped past like angry hornets. The mud beneath my boots was slick and heavy with bodies. Shells exploded close enough to shake my teeth loose. Yet, there he was—Private Samuel Woodfill—gr...
(0) Comments
Oct 09 , 2025
They say courage is forged in fire. Samuel Woodfill learned that truth in the hellscape of World War I. The roar of machine guns, the choking mud of no man’s land—it carved a warrior out of a Kentu...
(0) Comments
Oct 09 , 2025
Samuel Woodfill prowled the shattered trenches of the Meuse-Argonne like a force unleashed—calm amid chaos, deadly and deliberate. Bullets screamed past, but he pressed forward, striking at machine...
(0) Comments